


Wingless

by miss_nettles_wife



Category: Sofia the First (Cartoon)
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_nettles_wife/pseuds/miss_nettles_wife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fairy can't fly with no wings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wingless

**Author's Note:**

> Im such fuking trash

Of course, a fairy can’t fly if she has no wings. That was the premise, anyway, the decider what they came down to. That would ruin her, for sure. No wings, not a fairy. 

Of course, a fairy can’t fly if she has no wings. That was the premise, anyway, the decider what they came down to. That would ruin her, for sure. No wings, not a fairy. Of course Miss Nettle was already broken beyond any salvageable point by now. But they always had to make it worse, always worse for her. She had earned this, after all.

She wasn’t put under, or anything like that, no she hadn’t earned that. It wasn’t like they were removing a vital organ, or an arm, it was her wings.

Miss Nettle hadn’t moved so far today. She couldn’t be bothered to. After all, it was only a matter of hours before they decided to do something to her again so why bother? She supposes this is a worrying mental sign but really she’s beyond caring. She would like it all to end. Whether this is by them stopping, or her death, she doesn’t care. As long as it stops.

But not today, nettle, no not today.

The door to the dark and dirty cell opens, and she is taken out. They hold one hand on her throat and one around her legs, and around her hips, securing her in place until they take her to her next destination.

She doesn’t know why. Back when she had the energy to escape, perhaps she could have tired to get away but she just doesn’t anymore. She just wants to rest, so it can end and she can die. That would be her only escape, if she were to die. Eventually, she thinks, she could just wither up and die. All blood would leave her body, and her organs, and her ribs would open allowing her withered heart to burst from her ribs.

Well, something like that. But not today.

They lay her on a table, on her stomach, and handle her wings roughly. She struggles in their grip, but they don’t let her go, move away, it hurts, it hurts, but she should be used to it by now.

It’s not a new feeling, the delicate vertebra under the thin skin. One takes her resisting head and pushes it onto the wood table. It scrapes her skin, but she doesn’t complain. Not now. Maybe they would remove her spine, allow her to flop down while she bled to death on the table, in their laps.

Of course ,no such luck.

One attaches a sort of band around the base of the wing, keeping it secured, unable to move. She realizes just to late what they were going to do, because they have already begun.

The wings are stronger than they anticipated. They had thought that the knife would slide though the wing like butter, it was so delicate. But that was okay. It simply make it worse for her. One of them pokes her in her bruised side when she squirms a little bit. They laugh. Her eyes water as the knife begins to slide. And then she cries. The tears are thick and burning. She tries to move, and then to beg, please, please leave this, please let me have these, but they didn’t listen.

They never did.

She struggles again, but one digs his nails into her cheek, she screams at the ordeal, one of them presses her face further down onto the board. She tries to move away, squirming, screaming.

The blade emerges with surprising force, the built up pressure from his hand as the first wing pops off. It cuts her bare back a little. They don’t care. They never do.

She screamed, the gravity of the situation finally settled in on her and crushed her beneath the weight of it. She sobbed even more. No, stop, stop, no no no no no no.

They grabbed her second wing and she shivered despite the thick tears. No.

She sobbed again, her fingers digging into the table. She just wanted to be free. Had what she’d done truly been so terrible but this is what she deserved? If she’d had her time again she’d not do it. She’d stay put, be good, be a nice fairy, follow the rules if it only meant that she could escape the pain that racked her as they tore the knife though her wing. She has stopped moving now. Her stomach heaves, but nothing comes up. They have not fed her for a while now. Her stomach has a permanent ache.

One of them lifts her and wraps an arm around her, lifting her bloodied bony upwards. So much blood, she was already light headed, but now it was worse. They wrapped a bandage around her upper body. She wonders if they stitched the wounds they’d made up. She has the feeling that she’ll never know.

She lets out another louder, broken sob. One of them, picks her up, and puts her back in the cell. She drops onto the floor and lets out a soft whine. One of them looks at her face and then pushes her to the ground. She makes no attempt to move; again. Another on fastens a band around her ankle, attached to the wall, and a plate a little bit away from her. She sits up, woozy and light headed, but snatches the cup off the tray, and then proceeded to drink it all.


End file.
